We Women
by sciathan file
Summary: [One Shot, Gen] The women of the Ouran world speak out.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. I just use people, frolic through the world, and vanish without a trace.

**Spoilers:** Volume 6 of the manga and episodes 25 and 26 of the anime.

Much minor charactering is going to happen here. A few of them I haven't ever seen in canon _or_ fanon…so I will be taking extreme license at various points. This is a strange merging of both the anime canon and the manga canon…because I wanted to use a particular character from one while sticking with the overall manga characterizations.

In Honor of my 21st year. .

**We Women**

** sciathan file **

We women are strong and iron-willed.

You do not see us in suits spouting run loss reports or directing forces of men. You may not see our names recorded – except if it should be in the society pages on our wedding days – in the prominent newspapers, although you do know our surnames.

We women are subtlety, light, and air, working behind closed doors. Directing men with ivory hands.

But their voices speak _our_ words.

We women are strong and iron-willed.

We are sisters, despite what blood may say.

We are marble statues.

We are brash and shy, more than surnames.

We women are no different from anyone else.

We women _are_.

Even when you never see us outside of the porcelain cage crafted for us.

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We women are sisters, despite what blood may say.

Everyone knows that, in this world, blood can lie and appearance is the beginning and end of everything.

Once her husband said, breaking his taciturn silence, "Be careful how you act. You don't want him to be too subservient to the Haninozuka boy. When he and his cousin see you and his mother, they will _learn_. Our families should stand equally now."

But they – as sisters – wanted them to learn that they are strongest together.

Morinozuka does not bow to Haninozuka as a matter of blood, of familial piety, of servitude.

We women know that we have interlaced and filled in the niches and missing parts in one another.

My golden haired sister says that one stick may break easily with a careless chop of the hand. A bundle is not so hard to humble.

Our sons are cousins but also brothers. Stronger together.

We wisely know this and this is why we bow and then whisper at the suggestions of our husbands in silence.

We introduced them, of course, so that they could complete each other.

If anything, that is what is in their blood: a sense of completion.

We wisely know because we women are sisters, despite what blood may say.

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We women are brash and sly, and we do not allow our voices to be silenced.

Hemming the sleeve of the kimono, she regards the figures outside of the window and says "If only you had had daughters."

The statement is good-natured banter and her daughter, putting the final detail on a designer piece for an upcoming showcase smiles at the customary assertion.

The women in their family have a strong heritage. They say and do what they like.

They are such a kind of woman that, after many years, their husbands _still_ can't believe that they were chosen by them – and it has nothing to do with the wealth that comes with the name that they take from their wife.

Once her sons – with identical mischievous expressions - had told her "We are scared that we have inherited our father's meek character."

She can only laugh, as her mother always does when she also regards those two.

Even her husband says that those two take after the women of the Hitachiin family.

The women in their family play the jokes with a style and a veneer of innocence that is unmatched…and she knows that her boys would never be on the wrong side of _any_ joke.

And she knows that when her mother says, "If only you had had daughters" she actually means, "If only you had had daughters they would have been much more refined in their humor. More subtle."

But instead she gives a deceptively placid smile and finishes detailing the sleeve of her kimono where the thread trails a bright red snake through serene blue.

Her daughter nods and drapes a mannequin in a fiery red material that accentuates the curve of the hip.

We women are brash and sly, and we do not allow our voices to be silenced.

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We women are marble statues, with tapered flutes of gold. We are Fiordiligis and Dorabellas, Cio-Cio-Sans and Mimís, Carmens and Brünnhildes.

We have everything we want and nothing at all that we want.

There are summers on the Riviera in sheer, white linen dresses and nights in wine red with lilting melodies on the piano.

There are manners and diction and silk gowns with long trains as I stand by large windows looking out over mimosa trees with their wispy blossoms.

And in me there is a longing for Chopin or Debussy played by fingers I have heard spoken of in soft words since childhood.

A longing for a song that softens even marble.

That softens the world seen through this purple glass into notes and reflections off of the Rhine. A mere light shining off the water, a gilding pleasing in its natural aesthetic.

Perhaps then I will sing my aria in harmony to his song and step into the view behind the spectacles. Stepping out of the roles and into myself.

But we women are marble statues with tapered flutes of gold.

------------------------------

We women are more than our surnames. More than wives or Ootoris.

Daughters, I know, are not very much apart of this world. We cannot compete for prominence and we don't trade stocks…we trade names to those with the most assets and most prestige.

I have never been my father's daughter and I never want my little brother to become his son. My dear little brother is capable of so much more.

Tamaki and I make sure his is taken care of. We bring him to restaurants where he can relax, although he insults the food. I personally think it's charming.

We both know what it is to be only a surname.

If anything, I would like to be like my mother who was strong and intelligent despite her unhappy marriage, the scent of lilac following after her as she posed as an Ootori for cameras…only occasionally.

I, however, am happy in my marriage. I made my choice, even against my father's wishes.

In making a public engagement announcement there was not much he could do without causing rumors. Perhaps he forgot I was also part of a family famous for getting what they want.

Father's glare is colder now, but I am happy nonetheless.

I am happy to get what I want and to have a choice and not go quietly to the highest bidder.

If only Kyouya would understand and not always ask me if I've had a fight with my husband when I come to see him. He obviously, has never seen a _real_ fight between a married couple – although I sometimes tease him that he and Tamaki resemble one.

But he will learn to be more, too; I am teaching him. He will believe me when I tell him that I love _Kyouya_.

We women know we are more than our surnames. More than wives or Ootoris.

------------------------------

We women are strong. We live on despite adversity.

I live on even if there is no day I don't not cry at a memory and wish that I had not cried when he came to say good-bye.

I never wanted my son to remember me that way. To worry about me always. To dampen that all too willing smile.

I should have smiled like he would.

But I live on, praying that he will come back to me. Maybe even that his father might be free from that world as well…but that is only on days when I don't feel this ugly resentment. The guilt at making my son a commodity in that world.

I love Yuzuru. But sometimes this is simply not enough to explain the hurt. It is not a _why_ for his inaction.

But I must stay strong and stay healthy. For my son. Because he asked me to.

Because I never again want to see him cry where I cannot smooth his hair down and whisper, "_Mon Cherie_, you will brighten the world more by smiling."

I believe and pray that I shall be able to, one day. To make up for having cried when he left me.

I will be strong for him.

We women are strong. We shall still live on despite adversity.

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We women are iron-willed. We shall not bow to any man.

I have vowed to retain all of my beliefs and all of my opinions even if it appears as if a male is saying them…be it my foolish son or his foolish father.

I shall have control over myself now. I have been married to a role and been the society wife. I have smiled and not made my opinions publicly known. I have kept a veneer of silence.

But I am more than capable of having my own way.

I am a Suou. I shall wield the power that comes with that blood.

It is the blood that makes us powerful. That legitimacy is inherent within our name.

There are correct and incorrect women demarcated by blood.

My husband – as was expected and supposedly accepted – married a correct woman and dabbled with the incorrect kind.

My son, more foolish than his father, vowed to marry the most unsuitable specimen. To taint his blood. To tarnish our power.

But my voice shall be heard and no fool may silence it for a million pretty words and well-turned phrases.

We women shall remain iron-willed. We never shall bow to any man.

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We women are no different than anyone else. Men, women…I don't see the difference.

I suppose that there may be things that only men can do…but there are probably some things only a woman could do.

Men and women are only labels. They're just people and the only way to judge people are by knowing them, not just by looking at them.

They're just external appearances. Everyone is different, and just because you are one gender or another does not mean anything.

You might even have a preference for another gender. I don't think that's strange. You shouldn't be constricted to what you are born to.

In fact…its kind of fun to be the other one for a while…to hear what girls think they should talk about with men.

But they're only labels and I don't see why anyone should make such a fuss over them.

We women are no different than anyone else. Men, women…I don't see the difference.

------------------------------

**Fin**

**A/N:** Another incredibly weird piece in celebration of the women of Ouran…which is an interesting choice considering most of the series revolves around pretty boys.  This arose out of a desire to write about – of all people! – the Hitachiin's grandmother. That fairly indicates how much of a minor character lover I am. Anyways, there are testimonials of everyone. I tried to transition into their own voices and I think I was a lot more successful with some than others…of course some of these women have only been mentioned. I _think_ most of them are fairly obvious, but if not, consult the key further down. The one with no names whatsoever is actually Éclaire…who demanded to be written, for some reason. And, in case you're wondering, all of those names are famous female opera roles.

Here is the key to the vignettes if anyone wasn't sure on any of them (excluding the intro which is an amalgam of different voices): 1. Mori's and Hunny's mothers 2. Grandmother and mother Hitachiin 3. Éclaire 4. Ootori Fuyumi 5. Tamaki's mother 6. Tamaki's grandmother 7. Haruhi

I promise I'll write something normal next time! (or maybe I shouldn't promise that…Kyouya somehow got himself married off in my fanon and his wife is nagging me).

Pennies for your thoughts! And, of course, I hope you enjoyed! 3


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